i hope that you catch me (cause i'm already falling)
by lord-is-it-mine
Summary: Bucky is a barista. Steve just wants to draw him. And date him. A lot.


The first time Steve met Bucky was just two weeks into the semester; one of his classes had been cancelled, and with nothing better to do, he packed his bag full of pencils and paper and headed to the Red Room, the most popular coffee shop within three miles of the campus. His sculpting (he sucked at sculpting) classmate-turned-friend Natasha Romanov worked there most days, and so Steve figured he could at least chat with her while she made drinks. Watching her work was like watching a magic show- her hands flew from place to place and _bam_ \- she'd made four different things at once.

When Steve got there, Natasha looked up at the jingle of the bell over the door-a mischievous grin spread across her face, and Steve waved.

"Well if it isn't my favourite little old man." She loved that one- apparently, being short, skinny and wearing 'grandpa sweaters' was enough to make a nickname stick. His 'geriatric' music taste had also come into play at one point, too. _You hum along to Sinatra one time_. As if he didn't already live and breathe the hipster cliché, he was now a regular at a locally owned hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. When he started showing up a lot after class, she told him she admired his commitment to the "college art student with an espresso addiction" aesthetic. Natasha just loved teasing him- it was a term of endearment with her.

"Hey Natasha." He didn't dignify her greeting with a snarky response, though the urge to sass back was definitely there. He sat at the counter on the one end of the bar- it gave him a clear view of all the faces in the place- good artistic inspiration.

"You know Rogers, my friends call me Nat. Or Tasha. Sometimes 'red', but that one's not my all time favourite," Natasha said as she flipped the switch on the steamer. "you havin' the usual?"

"Yeah, thanks." Steve answered, though he wasn't really paying attention. Someone had just walked through the door, bell signalling their presence. Steve had habitually looked up to see who it was, and his first thought was- _let me draw him_.

The 'him' in question was a young guy, probably Steve's age, though considerably taller (that could be said of pretty much everyone). He wore almost the same outfit as Natasha- black doc martens, dark jeans and a black t-shirt with a red apron over it, most of which was covered up by a beat-up (but still pretty expensive looking) leather jacket. He turned his head to the side, pulling a hair tie from his wrist and pulling his long, dark hair up into a messy bun on the back of his head. That's when Steve noticed the undercut. He hadn't seen it before- he'd been too distracted by those eyes- blue, sharp, bright. He wanted to dig through his pencil crayons to see if he had one that came close to that colour. There probably wasn't one.

The guy strode through the shop with confidence, tossing his jacket on the coat rack by the door, and Steve _really did_ try not to stare. He failed. Epically. However, there were enough people in line that he probably wasn't on anyone's radar, thank _God_.

"Hey, James." Natasha greeted the guy as he joined her behind the bar. _James_. He didn't look like a _James_.

"How many time's am I gonna have'ta tell ya, Tash? It's _Bucky_. Only my ma calls me James." His Brooklyn accent was palatable. Steve's jaw felt loose from gaping.

 _My friends call me Nat. Or Tasha._

Steve wondered who was allowed to call her _Tash._ And with such a casual kind of intimacy. Not that it mattered. Steve certainly didn't care who called Natasha what, and with what level of intimacy they called her it. He apparently _did_ care who called James what. He wondered if he had to achieve friend status to call him Bucky. He liked the name Bucky. It seemed much more fitting. Less presidential.

"Doesn't your mom call you _Buchanan_?" Natasha smirked, scooping chocolate chips into somebody's iced cap. Bucky chuckled humorlessly, poking her in the side and leaning close over her shoulder. Steve felt himself frown slightly.

" _Please_ don't." Bucky smiled like the devil with a soul due, and Steve loved it already.

"Sure thing, _James_." Natasha laughed. "Now get to work."

"Yes ma'am." Bucky saluted, turning to the line at the cash register. That's when Steve noticed the black painted fingernails. He swallowed involuntarily. This guy was checking every box on Steve's list. Not that it mattered. He seemed to be pretty friendly with Natasha.

"Is his name really Buchanan?" Steve asked Natasha when she handed him his drink. He kept his voice barley louder than a whisper. So much for not sounding presidential.

"James Buchanan Barnes, at your service." Bucky answered, suddenly appearing over Natasha's shoulder. Natasha was holding back a laugh as Steve's face turned red. She took the three empty cups Bucky handed her and headed off towards the blender. Steve almost blurted _don't leave me alone with him_ but managed to stay quite.

"Steve Rogers." He said quietly, fidgeting with the pencil behind his ear.

"Right. You're the one Tash was telling me about. You guys have sculpture class together." Bucky braced both his hands on the counter and leaned closer to Steve. "She says you've got talented hands."

"Uh-" Steve stammered- _he's flirting with you, idiot_. "I'm not that great. Drawing's more my thing."

Bucky's eyes lit up. Lit. Up. Steve was not prepared for that.

"Cool! Can you draw me?"

Normally that was Steve's worst nightmare. Every time people found out he drew stuff for a living, they all wanted him to draw them, right there, on the spot, as if art was something he could produce with a wave of his hand. But coming from a guy as gorgeous as Bucky, the question somehow ceased to be annoying altogether.

"Probably. Might take some time, though." Steve felt some of his confidence return to him. If there was one thing he could talk about, it was art. "You can't rush greatness."

"Greatness, huh?" Bucky raised an eyebrow. He was about to say something else, but-

"James, I swear to God, if you don't stop fraternising with my best customer and get your butt over here-"

"Alright, Tash, alright, don't get your apron in a wad." Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically, for Steve's amusement. Steve laughed and tried not to notice Bucky staring at his mouth. He thought of how Bucky had acted with Natasha a minute ago, and the laugh sort of died in his throat. Mixed signals. Steve knew what he wanted to be true, but he couldn't be sure. Natasha yelled again and Bucky shrugged apologetically, returning to the cash register.

Steve grabbed his coffee and retreated to the small round table in the corner, pulling one of his smaller sketchbooks out and beginning to draw whatever he thought of. It wasn't long before a messy interpretation of Bucky's face was looking back at him from the paper. Steve shook his head, turned the page, and kept drawing. He drew three more versions of Bucky, each one less and less like the genuine article. It was the eyes he couldn't get right. He proceeded to draw them over and over again, each time changing something to try and get them to look like- that was it. He just didn't have the right shade of blue.

"Mind if I sit down?" Someone said, and Steve visibly jolted from his daydream. There was Bucky, holding and iced coffee and looking like a hopeful puppy that just followed someone home. _He wants to be let in_.

"No, go ahead." Steve replied, quickly flipping several pages ahead of the sketches he'd just been working on, so as to avoid an awkward conversation. _Oh, these? No, I wasn't drawing you from memory even though we only just met. Ha. That would be weird._

"Shouldn't you be working?" Steve asked with as much nonchalance as he could muster. Bucky shook his head.

"Nope. I'm on break." He sucked on his straw, and Steve (in the very noble study of human anatomy) watched the muscles in his neck work as he swallowed.

"Really? How long have I been sitting here?"

"About an hour." Bucky shrugged, like he'd seen a million guys stare at him and then sit and draw for an hour after that. "So, we gonna do this?"

"Do- what?"

"You. Draw me. I have twenty minutes. That's not rushing, is it?" Bucky raised an eyebrow again and smiled. Steve huffed out a laugh.

"No- it won't be finished or anything, but I can probably draw you in twenty."

"On your marks, get set-" Bucky winked. "Go."

Steve barely looked at Bucky while he blocked out the shape of a head- When he did glance up, he saw that Bucky's eyes watched him draw. He remembered what Bucky had said about 'talented hands' and felt his face heat up. Great.

"So, how do you know Natasha? I mean, did you know her before working here, or?" Steve corrected his obvious question on the fly, marking down a more definite line for Bucky's jaw before Bucky answered him.

"No, we met a couple years ago, when we both got jobs here as freshmen."

"You're a junior?"

"Yeah. You?"

"Sophomore."

"Hm." Steve liked small talk and all, and he really didn't want to seem nosy, but it was just bugging him now, the question of just how well he and Natasha knew each other.

"I was just wondering, because she let you touch her. I don't know her all that well, but she doesn't really seem like a touchy feely person to me."

"She isn't. She's just used to me." Bucky said, without a smile. That was odd.

"Well, I guess if you work with someone long enough-"

"We had a thing. Last summer. It was short, destined to fail. She was a rebound, and I knew I couldn't treat her as well as she deserved, but she was there for me. It actually made our friendship stronger. Tested our limits and all that."

"Oh." Steve didn't really know how to reply. He had just captured the shape of Bucky's lower lip, the straw resting on it. Bucky took another sip of his drink. There was a slight lull in the conversation, but it wasn't awkward. Steve was pleasantly surprised.

"That looks great, Steve." Bucky commented, gesturing to the almost complete image of his own face. The eyes were still missing. Hearing Bucky say his name for the first time made Steve's heart skip a beat.

"Thanks." Steve smiled slightly, the tip of his pencil hovering over where Bucky's left eye was about to go. "This next part is the most important. So don't move a muscle." Steve looked up, meeting Bucky's eyes- he hadn't really done that yet. The full force of Bucky's eyes meeting his was a little overwhelming. _Is this what love at first sight is_?

Bucky took the whole 'not moving a muscle' thing very seriously. By the time Steve was finished with the final eyelash, it didn't even look like Bucky was breathing.

"That's it, you're done. Permission to move." Steve turned the sketchbook around on the table, allowing Bucky to take a more thorough look at it.

"Wow. It's like lookin' in a mirror." Bucky grinned. "I look even better on paper."

"Not true." Steve muttered, reaching for his long forgotten coffee and sipping it without thinking. It was lukewarm and kind of gross and made him cough. He didn't stop coughing for quite a while, and when he did, Bucky looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"I'm fine, really." Steve assured him. "My lungs just aren't the greatest. Any chance they get to cause trouble, they take it."

"Good. I was worried I'd have to do CPR. Mouth-to-mouth. Not that I would have minded." Bucky shrugged, and Steve nearly choked again, on _air_ this time.

"I'll make you another one of those, on the house." Bucky got up from his stool, stretching his back. "Caramel macchiato, right?"

"How did you-"

"Nat and I have all the regular orders memorised. Saves time. It'll be ready in a minute."

Steve waited around for his drink, using the time to look back over his finished sketch. He didn't like to brag, but it was good. Really good. It was the eyes. He decided to hand it in for his next portrait assignment.

"Here you go." Bucky reappeared a minute later, as he said, just as Steve finished packing up his stuff.

"Thanks." Steve smiled for what felt like the millionth time that day. Bucky smiled back. Their eyes met again and Steve wanted to do draw Bucky all over again. Or kiss him. Both.

"James _BUCHANAN BARNES_." Natasha hollered. Steve looked over and saw she was smiling too. Ah. Everything suddenly made a whole lot more sense.

"Comin'." Bucky called over his shoulder, eyes still not leaving Steve's. "See you around, Steve."

"See you." Steve answered, knowing he would.

He made it all the way out onto the sidewalk, still smiling, before he even looked at the cup in his hand. When he did, his smiled so wide his face hurt.

 _212-555-1939. I can't wait for you to draw me again :)_


End file.
